Past and Present
by cr8zymommy
Summary: This is a short, crappy one-shot with a hooker!reid prompt. Written at 3am lol not meant to be serious. :


**AN - This was a prompt I got of hooker!reid - done before, I know, and this may be a little odd. I wrote it at three in the morning so yeah, pardon my writing. If you don't like it, sorry, lol. But I've been a little stuck on how to start the second part of my MR series and I don't get much writing time right now so I got a prompt from a friend and this was it. Hope you at least don't think it sucks :P**

* * *

"We're getting nowhere with her." Emily said with a frustrated sigh. She glanced through the observation window and rolled her eyes at the woman sitting there. "I didn't realize being stubborn was part and parcel with being a prostitute."

"Actually, stubbornness is a very common trait amongst prostitutes. Think of the things they deal with every single day and the type of clientele that they service and…" Spencer trailed off at the amused looks he received, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Aaron cleared his throat and brought the topic back under control. "Well she hasn't responded well to whomever we send in to speak with her. We're running out of options and she's our best witness so far. We just need to figure out how to get her to talk."

The team was surprised when a soft voice said "Let me talk to her."

All eyes turned toward Spencer, who was still blushing. His eyes held something in them, just barely there before he turned to look at the window, deliberately avoiding their eyes. "It makes sense, Hotch. If you talk to her, she'll only see a Fed and she'll refuse to say anything. Not speaking to the cops is almost ingrained into a prostitute."

He turned back to his team, gesturing to Emily. "With Emily she sees competition. No matter the context, she's learned that a pretty woman is competition and therefore not someone to trust."

"Aw, Reid. You think I'm pretty?" Emily teased him.

Spencer's blush grew. He ignored her and gestured to Morgan next. "With you, she'll see not only a cop, but a potential client. She'll be too busy trying to get in your pants to pay any attention to anything you have to say to her." At their chuckles, Spencer shrugged his shoulders, looking back through the window. "That only leaves myself and Rossi and, to be quite honest, I know you'd be able to get her to talk, Rossi, but it would take quite a while to build up the kind of trust you'd need to get her talking and that's time we just don't have."

"And you think you can get it out of her faster?" Aaron asked him. His tone wasn't degrading or shocked, but asking for simple clarification.

Again something passed over Spencer's face, there and gone so quickly the others couldn't recognize it. He let out a sigh so soft it was almost unnoticed and then he nodded. "People's lives depend on it. I have to."

"Then go ahead."

Spencer nodded to him and moved toward the door. After a second he stopped, apparently thinking about something. There was another sigh and then he grabbed his tie, loosening the knot and pulling it over his head. He turned and handed it to Morgan, who was giving him a half grin. Next came the sweater vest. That left him in his converse shoes, black dress slacks, and a button up dark blue shirt, one that Garcia had bought him and he rarely wore. When he handed the vest to Morgan, he noticed his friends amused look and gave him a shrug. "Less like a nerd." Was all the explanation he gave.

Then he lifted his gaze up to his boss. "Does this absolutely need to be recorded?"

His question surprised the room. Aaron looked over at Dave, exchanging a silent commentary. Then, as answer, Aaron leaned over and flicked the recording switch to off. Spencer gave him a grateful smile before disappearing out the door. Emily looked at her teammates with a bemused expression. "What on earth is that boy doing?" she asked.

Dave shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Maybe he's planning on using his charm. I've heard the prostitutes tend to take to Reid on the streets."

The others laughed as they remembered that night. Then they heard the door to interrogation open and all of them turned their eyes to the room. Surprise had them freezing. The Spencer Reid that walked through that door was not the same one they saw every single day. Gone was the shuffling, awkward walk of a kid who was either too lost in thought to pay attention or who tried to make himself less noticeable. In his place was a lanky man who walked with confidence and a slight amount of…well, sex to his walk. When he took his seat, he didn't appear shy or nervous. If anything, he slid into the chair, crossing his legs to the side and leaning on his elbows on the table with an air of confidence. What on earth had made this transformation?

* * *

Spencer looked at the woman across from him and sized her up as best he could in here. It would have been easier out in her element, on her terms, but this was what he had to work with. This made his job harder but not impossible. Though, knowing that the others were back there watching, he had to work to keep the nerves at bay. "Hey, Sylvie. I'm Dr. Spencer Reid, with the BAU." He introduced himself. No point in lying to her. She would peg him for a Fed in no time just by him being there at all.

The look Sylvie gave him was one of surprise. The dark haired woman sat back in her chair, arms resting on the back of it to better display her chest. "A G-man, huh? Wow, they let just anyone in these days, eh?"

"Yeah, well, it pays the bills."

"Ironic, isn't it?" The woman taunted him. "They'd let a Blue like you in here, but a butch I knew couldn't even walk in the doors of the station without hearing shit. Where are the rights for women, huh? Equality and all that shit."

He knew she was just making stuff up as she went. Anything to try and veer the topic away from what they were asking and push it towards things she might be able to use to get out of the room. Just like he knew the term 'blue' she used for him was a subtle way of calling him gay.

Playing the part, Spencer sat back in his chairs, folding his arms over his lap in a casual pose. "Don't dyke bite at me, Sylvie." He said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm not that stupid."

The look in her eyes changed to one of speculation. "You a stroller?" she asked, using a term for walking the streets.

In the back of his mind Spencer prayed the others had left the room, though he knew they hadn't. At the same time he hoped they wouldn't understand half the terminology that was going to be used. None of it showed on his face. This was what he had to do to get her to talk, even if it meant being a person he hadn't been for a while. Out there right now there was a woman and child who were going to die if they weren't found. He could sacrifice any pride for that.

"Once. Meat rack." Was all he said, flicking a hand at her like it was nothing.

Her eyes sparkled slightly. "We've got one of those here. My beat's between the two, you know? I like to hit the middle."

Ah, so she didn't stick to the straight side. The meat rack was a common term for a gay cruising area for male prostitutes. The between was where the bisexual workers went.

Chuckling, Spencer leaned in again. "You a fag hag?"

Her laughter echoed around the room, deep and smoky, speaking of a longtime smoking habit. "Been called worse." She said. When he saw her reaching for her purse, he knew he'd got past the first level. She was reaching for her cigarettes and that meant she was semi comfortable around him, but not trusting yet. They would get there.

After she tapped one out, she offered one to him. Spencer didn't hesitate to take it. This was a test on her part and he wasn't going to fail. Once they each had theirs lit, she moved the ashtray to the center of the table so it sat perfectly between them. Spencer concentrated on taking careful drags; it had been a long, long time since he'd smoked.

Sylvie tapped some ash into the container, looking at him through heavily made up eyes. "So, they sent you in to talk to me now, eh? How do I know you're not just someone real good at acting?"

Taking a drag, he shrugged and blew the smoke above them. "Guess you don't." He said with a grin. "You could ask me stuff, I suppose. But if I was a good actor, I'd know those already."

She nodded at his words, agreeing. Amusement lit her eyes as they traveled over him. "You a guppie?"

The scowl he gave her was actually honest this time. "Ew, no. Seriously, you think I'm one of those urban yuppies? Come on now, I've got more pride than that shit."

"You look a little young for much else."

"Yeah, well. Got a lot of chicken hawks, but, hell, after a while it's all the same."

Her smile was a little more sincere this time while she tapped her ashes. "Aint that the truth. Once you seen one, you seen em all."

The honesty of his reaction seemed to have done quite a bit toward smoothing the way between them. He saw the flash in her eyes when he mentioned chicken hawks, which had been a term used when he was on the streets to describe men who bought underage male hookers. Now, while he had this edge, was the perfect moment to switch to the topic he wanted.

Uncrossing his legs, Spencer leaned in to the table, instinctively adopting a pose he would have used back in the day. Elbows on the desk, shoulders thrown back, half smile curving his lips and his head cocked just a little to the side. The line of his spine was smooth and graceful straight down to the chair. "You know why I'm in here to talk to you, Sylvie." He said as he tapped out a few ashes.

"Yeah." For a moment longer the caution stayed in her eyes. Then Spencer got a glimpse at the fear underneath. "Yeah." She said again. "Listen, I'll help you as best I can. There aint a whole lot I know, you know what I mean? I don't even know what you're looking to tell me. I gave the other cop the description, even if he don't believe me."

"We believe you." He said simply. At her surprise, he shrugged and ground out his cigarette. "Some think they blend after a while, the faces. But they don't. They think you just don't care who you take. But doing all that, it requires a little on the spot profiling. Size up the guy, make sure he's someone semi decent. Make sure he won't fuck and run."

Sylvie put out her smoke and proceeded to light another one. There was just a minor tremble to her hands. Noticing it, Spencer's mind spun. There was more to this than he thought. Implications of what this could mean were a little staggering. No wonder she was so nervous! Spencer forgot all about his friends watching; he leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table and leaning over them. "You know him, don't you, Sylvie?" he asked softly.

The woman jumped, her cigarette shaking just slightly. "What?"

"You probably didn't think anything was too off about him. A little quiet, little jumpy sometimes, but hey, lots of Johns get like that. He kept coming back and you saw he was always going with the girls, but never the regular girls. Always the ones in the between. Then, once he learned them all, he'd go after the fag hags. He liked being with the girls who liked hanging with the gays."

"I thought he just got his kicks like that." Sylvie whispered. Her eyes suddenly moved toward him, anguished. "No one would really say what he was like or what to expect. But some of the girls moved to the other side. They wouldn't say why, but they left."

Spencer nodded at her. "So you were more worried now, cause they wouldn't tell. Then one night, he approached you. Offered you quite a large amount of cash, right? More than you'd seen in a long time. All he wanted was just a few hours, or maybe the night."

"Yeah. It was a hell of a drop for a night, so I took it. Bills were due, you know?"

Unlacing his arms from under him, Spencer reached over and took Sylvie's free hand in his. She startled at first, giving him a wide-eyed stare. Not many cops were willing to touch a hooker, as if by doing so they would somehow be dirtier. All of that flashed in her eyes. Then she suddenly clamped down on his hand. Her expression was grateful for that small kindness.

"Tell me what he did, Sylvie."

She shivered and gripped on his hand even tighter. Leaning in, she dropped her cigarette in the ashtray, not even bothering to put it out. "He took me to a hotel. I let him pick the place. He, uh, he got me in the room and he like, started asking me questions. Asking me about the Blues I work with and shit like that. It was weird, but I didn't think it'd hurt. So I just kind of, told him things without telling him who, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Spencer smiled encouragingly at her.

"He wanted a game. Wanted to go round the world and shit like that. I said fine, but I wanted a deposit up front for that shit. He laid out the cash and let me start. Halfway through, he got weird."

"Weird? How so?"

She shuffled in her seat slightly, obviously uncomfortable with this. That told Spencer plenty right there. For her to be uncomfortable, what was coming must not have been good. "Well, like, he didn't really seem into what I was doing with him. He said he was ok with it, but he wasn't hard, so I knew it wasn't right. Most men are going crazy halfway round the world, but he couldn't even get it up. When I suggested maybe we stop, cut our losses, he panicked. Next thing I knew I was on the ground and he was beating the hell out of me."

One bare shoulder shrugged, as if this was nothing. Spencer squeezed her hand tighter and let his eyes tell her how sorry he was. He didn't want to speak right then; didn't want to break the moment.

"When he was done hitting me he jacked off, let it land on me. Then he threw a wad of cash and left. I cleaned up and I went home. Had to take off work a few days to heal, but when I was I went back on the spot. Stayed in the between, but if I saw his car coming, I hightailed it out of there. I tried to warn some of the cherries, but those girls are so damn new they think they're invincible. Daisy was one of them. I told her to stay away from him, but she just wouldn't. Then she went with him and she was gone. Just, gone."

Pleading eyes turned to Spencer, tears dancing in the bottom of them. "Please, you've got to help her. She's not just another girl like the rest of us. She's…good. This life, it aint for her. She's not meant to stroll. But she had a little boy at home she had to feed and there just wasn't anything else she could do. Her daddy, he wouldn't help. Told her to hit the streets. That's what a woman's good for. So she did what she had to. But she was savin' to run with her baby and get far from here. You've got to help her, Dr. Reid. Please."

Spencer brought his other hand up and wrapped it around their already joined hands, cradling hers between his two. "That's what we're trying to do." He promised her quietly. In the back of his mind he was running over details, thinking what needed to be done next. "You think you can describe his ride for us? A plate, maybe, or anything else about it. And any details about him you didn't have put into the sketch. The little things, they're important, ok?"

"You'll stay with me?" Sylvie looked suddenly younger, her eyes pleading with him. "Hold my hand?" The last part was so quiet he barely heard it. But when he did, his heart went out to her. The woman didn't have people who were willing to help her and offer comfort. None of the cops had treated her as anything but trash. To them, she was just another hooker.

He gave her his kindest smile. "I'll have someone come in to write, ok?"

"Another Fed?" The disgust in her tone was easily visible.

This time, his grin was wide. "Yeah, but I'd trust the man with my life. He's a great guy, despite being a Fed. You'll like him."

"He Blue too?"

"Shit. If only."

His reply made her give a watery chuckle. Taking that as assent, Spencer rose from his seat, still holding on to her with one hand. With the other he grabbed his chair and moved it to her side of the table. Then he nodded at the two way glass. They would have heard him, so he knew they'd understand what his nod meant. Sure enough, the door opened a minute later and Morgan came walking in.

Sylvie slanted a look at Spencer, nudging his side with her elbow. He'd deliberately sat close, offering her the physical comfort he knew she was looking for in a totally non-sexual way. At her elbow, he gave her a look back; just a quirk of the eyebrow, a slight twitch of his lips. She hummed softly and smiled at him before looking back at Morgan, who was now shutting the door, a chair in his hand.

He put the chair on the other side of the table, taking his seat and smiling at them both. He said nothing about their joined hands or about the fact that they sat on the same side of the table. If anything, he looked totally calm and comfortable. "Hey. I'm Agent Morgan. I work with Dr. Reid on the BAU team."

"More Feds. More cops." Sylvie said with a roll of her eyes. She couldn't resist tweaking with him. It was ingrained, to be distrustful of cops. "I'd expect it of you more than Blue over here." When Spencer elbowed her, she shot him a wide grin.

"Be nice." Spencer told her with a chuckle. "Just start telling him about the car. Anything you remember will help, all right."

For the next thirty minutes, Sylvie walked them through the description of the car. Morgan talked her through it, taking her back so she could draw as clear an image as possible. Then he took her through the detailed physical description and the study of his actions. Each time she faltered, Spencer tightened his grip on her hand to remind her that he was there.

Finally, the three of them were done. Morgan thanked her for her time and told her she was free to go. When she stood, she grabbed her bag off the back of the chair, almost reluctantly letting go of Spencer's hand.

He didn't walk away, as she thought he would. Instead he linked arms with her, making her smile at him with surprise. Then he led her out of the interrogation room. Her surprise grew when she saw he wasn't going to let go in front of the cops. "Brave one, aint ya?" she murmured.

"Hell, girl, I got no shame here." He told her, grinning. It was so easy to remember the mindset of pissing off the cops "They can think what they want. Walk with pride. Don't let them bastards think they won a damn thing."

Her grin was big and bright. Then she switched from walking to the stroll she used in the evenings. Hips swaying, shoulders back, more of an undulation than a walk. Spencer mimicked the moves, barely having to think to put his body in that kind of attitude. When they reached the outside, it took them everything they had not to bust out laughing.

Sylvie turned to grin at him. "You're not too bad a guy, Dr. Reid." She complimented him.

He shrugged, giving her a smile in return. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself, Sylvie. And…call me Spencer. Or Reid. All my friends do."

"Thanks for everything in there, Spencer. You'll…let me know? If you find her, I mean."

"Yeah." Spencer said. "I'll come let you know." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out one of his cards. "You got a pen?"

When she gave him one, he wrote his cell on the back of the card before handing her the card and the pen. "Call me sometime. That's my cell on the back, so you'll be able to get a hold of me no matter what. If you see anything, let me know. Or if you just need someone to talk to. I'm a pretty good listener. And, if you ever need help, you call me first thing, you hear?"

"Call a fed for help and a little chat?" she teased him. But she took the car and put it in her bag. "I'll do that. Like I said, you're not too bad, Spencer."

"You need a ride or anything?"

She shook her head, looking down at her feet. "Aint too far. I'm used to walkin' in heels, you know? I'll be all right." To prove herself, she started off, winking at him. "You let me know how it goes!"

Just as Spencer shook his head, grinning, and turned to head back into the station, she called out to him again. "Hey! Spencer!"

He turned back toward her. "What?"

"What was your name?"

It didn't take any thought to know what she meant. A real smile curved his lips. "Actually, funny enough, it was Blue." He called back. Her laughter echoed back to him when she turned and strolled away.

* * *

Walking back into the station wasn't exactly easy for Spencer. Gone were the sultry stroll and the confident expression. His usual awkward steps and shy expression were back in place. Trying to be noticed as little as possible, he slid back inside and made his way across the room. Still, he heard the comments as he went past.

"Dude, I wouldn't touch him till he washes."

"You see how he was with her? Looked just like one of em."

"How could he touch that trash? Probably have to go get his shots now."

By the time he reached the conference room, temper was bubbling underneath the surface. Who the hell did these people think they were? _Cops_ his brain answered. _They're cops and you know how cops look at prostitutes. It's not personal, so don't take it that way. You're not that person anymore. You got the hell out._

When he saw his teammates, Spencer couldn't stop himself from wincing. This wasn't something he was really looking forward to. But they were all profilers and he knew they would have understood that what he'd done was more than just acting. They were going to be building their own assumptions, their profile of him, off of what they'd seen. As much as he hated the idea of it, he was going to have to tell them the truth. What they thought of might end up being a whole lot worse than the truth.

So when he walked in the room, he deliberately shut the door behind him, flipping the lock on it. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted.

All eyes turned toward him, the expressions guarded in ways he'd never thought he'd see directed at him. It had his spine snapping straight and what little pride he had forcing his chin up. "I know you guys were profiling me while I was in there." He said, amazed at how steady his voice sounded. Low, yes. Slightly dull. But steady.

"Reid, you don't…" Emily trailed off at the look he gave her.

"Yes, yes I do." Leaning against the door, Spencer looked at his friends and family and wondered what this would do to them. He hadn't wanted this to ever come out, but a woman and child's life were more important than his pride. And now, it was too late to go back. "What you could come up with on your own could be worse than the real truth. Plus, I won't have this sitting between us while we work. This is coming out, now, or I turn and walk out of the station and fly home."

That shocked them all. Finally it was Aaron who gestured at him to continue. This was it. The moment of truth.

"When I turned fourteen my dad came back into my life for a while." He started his story. Instantly surprise lit the faces of his friends. His family. He ignored it and kept talking. "Mom wasn't very stable at the time, as you are all aware of. I was trying to manipulate finances and to make sure that everything was as well taken care of as was possible for someone my age. But I was failing in so many ways. No matter how mathematically talented a person is, you cannot stretch money that is not available. I wasn't quite old enough to fake getting into the casinos, so that was out. I was unsure as to what to do to obtain the money we needed for survival."

This was the part that ached. He remembered how young he'd felt; how vulnerable. How easy it had been to be manipulated. All over again he felt the disgust with himself. But none of that showed as he continued to speak.

"Dad had been watching us for a period of time, it appeared. Later, I found out the whole story that prompted this. I'll simply sum it up for you. The lesser details aren't as important in the grand scheme of the story. Dad had a client that he hadn't been able to clear the way he promised. In return, the man wanted retribution. He was a pimp, to use the vulgar term. One with a preference for early to late teenage boys. Since Dad hadn't been able to keep the guy's boy out of jail, he wanted a replacement. Dad promised him me."

Unable to bear the looks on their faces, Spencer turned, strolling toward their evidence board. It was almost easier like this. Like he was telling someone else's story.

"Dad came and told me this was what I was going to do. I was going to work for the man, Vix. I refused, of course. But Dad told me that he'd have Mom locked away and I would be put into the foster system if I refused. I knew if I went in the system then there would always be a chance I'd be abused or raped. If I worked for Vix, at least it would be on my terms." He gave a dry little laugh. Like it had made any difference. On the streets, in a home, it all panned out the same. "Then Dad put the final piece in and I was lost. He promised that if I did, he'd pay our bills. At least the house ones. Any food money was going to have to come from me. So I did the only thing I could do. I went to Vix and I started work."

"Jesus, Reid." Emily whispered in a strained voice. "Your dad sold you to a pimp?"

"To keep himself from being killed. Yeah, pretty much." Spencer forced himself to turn again, to shrug as if it was no big deal.

"But you were only fourteen!"

Again Spencer shrugged. He looked at them, avoiding looking at their eyes. He didn't want their pity. Didn't want to see them looking at him with disgust. "There are plenty of chicken hawks out there." At their questioning looks, he elaborated "Men who like younger boys. Ephebophiles."

Clearing his throat, Spencer finished his story. It was almost done. "I did it until I was old enough that Vix lost interest in me. He didn't keep kids past eighteen. If you had money, you could buy your contract from him. I'd saved, so I bought my contract right before I turned eighteen. Then I went home and I waited until I was old enough to be legally responsible for my mother. Then, as you all know, I had her committed, because I knew it was best. Not only for her, but for myself as well. I was selfish. She couldn't be used as leverage against me then."

This part was a little easier. This part, he was proud of, no matter what anyone said to him. It showed, though, in the way his chin tipped up and his spine went even stiffer. "I was slick enough to get into the casinos then. It's not as hard as some would think it is. I counted cards and walked away with enough money to pay for my mom's first year at the sanitarium. I'd been going to school this whole time as well, so I used some money to pay tuition costs. Then, you all know how I met Gideon. The rest, as they say, is history."

Silence filled the conference room. No one seemed able to speak. As the silence stretched on, Spencer's heart seemed to slowly break. They were disgusted with him now. That was it. He'd finally told them the one thing that ruined this little family. He never should have told them. He should have just figured out a different way to get Sylvie to talk, or he should have told the guys that he was just acting. Anything but telling them that he'd been a hooker for a little over three years.

The sound of his footsteps seemed so loud inside the silence of the conference room. Before anyone could say anything to him, before they could even find their voices, Spencer was across the room and unlocking the door with fumbling hands. He managed to get the lock undone and then he yanked the door open just as life came back into his teammates.

He thought he heard one of them say his name, more than one of them, but it was lost in the roaring sound of his own heartbeat trapped in his ears. His long legs carried him out the door and across the station. When he knocked into a desk, he simply caught his balance and kept going. He had to get out of here. He had to get out now!

The front door seemed like it was so far away and yet he reached it in no time. The first fresh gulp of air filled his lungs. He didn't pause to absorb it as he knew he should—the pain was making his breathing speed up and leaving him lightheaded—instead he simply started moving, not knowing or caring where he was going. So long as it was away from here.

Tears coursed unnoticed down his cheeks. He was such an idiot! Why had he told them that? Why on earth had he let them know? He'd never even told Gideon! What had he been thinking? He _hadn't_ been thinking; that was exactly it. If he had, he never would have done this to himself. Now he'd gone and messed up everything in his life he'd ever worked for. With one short conversation, he'd destroyed his life all on his own.

A hand grabbed his arm suddenly, startling him so bad that he instinctively reached for his gun. When another hand grabbed him, his pain turned to panic and he prepared himself to fight. That was when his mind cleared enough for him to hear the voices around him and to recognize them. Then his eyes cleared enough for him to _see_ who was there.

The team. All of them.

They surrounded him, Morgan and Emily holding on to his arms. Spencer swallowed, moving his hand away from his gun. He looked around him and realized that they were standing between two SUV's. Morgan was on his left, Emily on his right, and Aaron and Dave moved right in front of him. "What do you want?" He forced himself to ask. He wasn't successful at keeping the heartache out of his voice. Belatedly he realized he was crying but he couldn't seem to make it stop.

"You scared us, running out like that." Emily told him. Her grip on his arm relaxed and then she was letting go of him. _Probably doesn't want to touch you._ The thought hurt. But Morgan wasn't letting go. His grip shifted a little, more of a stroking over his arm than a restraint now, but he knew it would tighten if he tried to move away.

He stood before them all and felt like he simply had no pride left. No dignity. Nothing to wrap around himself to make this any easier. Every wall he'd ever erected was down now, leaving him open and exposed. A wrong word would shatter him to pieces that he didn't know if he could put back together.

"Reid." Aaron's voice was low and it held something that Spencer rarely heard from the man. Something that sounded like regret and pain. "We weren't judging you."

Yeah, right. "Oh, I'm sure." He said sarcastically. Sarcasm was the last defense he had and even he knew it wasn't a good one. "That's why no one could even bring themselves to _talk to me_."

"You shocked us, kiddo." Dave told him. He took a step closer, sighing when Spencer looked to the ground, avoiding any eye contact. The young man didn't want to see the expressions in any of their eyes. Realizing that Spencer wouldn't look up, Dave kept talking. "We weren't silent because we were judging you. We were silent because we were absolutely stunned by what you told us."

Before Spencer could speak, Aaron cut in. "Not for the reasons you're thinking, Reid. We were stunned that someone could do that to their child and we were sorry that you ever had to live through anything like that."

He didn't want them feeling sorry for him. He didn't want their pity. What he wanted was for this conversation to have never happened. He wanted his life to go back to the way it used to be.

The stroking on his arm drew his attention to Morgan. His best friend—the man who had _once_ been his best friend, at least—spoke in a low murmur. "Kid, I know you hate pity. I know you hate stuff like that. But can't you see that our hearts break for the boy you were? For the boy who had to be an adult long before he should have? A boy that was sold by his father to a pimp and forced into doing something like this just to care for his mother. It doesn't make us judge you or hate you or feel disgusted. It makes us marvel at the strength of character you have."

A small kernel of hope started to grow. Spencer took a shuddering breath, daring to lift his eyes toward Morgan. "You're not just saying that?" he whispered brokenly. The tears seemed to be coming faster now.

To his surprise, Morgan pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him, holding Spencer in a hug so tight it should have been stifling. But it wasn't. It was wonderful. "Ah, pretty boy. You were just a kid. No kid should ever have to live that way. I'm sorry you had to carry that secret around for so long."

Someone's hand smoothed his hair back. When Spencer looked, he was surprised to realize that it was Aaron who was tucking his hair behind his ear like he was a child. Dave had stepped up as well, putting his hand over Spencer's where it lay against Morgan's back. Emily came up behind him, joining the hug. She leaned into his back, Morgan's hands probably against her stomach, and she rested her cheek against his back. His family was gathered around him, wrapping him tight, holding him together when he couldn't do it alone.

"You've been carrying that secret for a long time, Reid. I'm glad you told us." Aaron told him gently. "No one should carry that kind of burden alone. Family, a real family, helps one another. They lift you up and help you through the hurdles in life."

"Your dad, he's blood, but he's not family." Emily said into his back. "We're your family."

"And we're not going to let you go through this alone, kiddo." With a smile, Dave squeezed his hand. "You're not getting rid of us that easy, you hear me? This won't chase us away."

A small sob slipped out. Embarrassed by it, Spencer closed his eyes again. What had he done in life to deserve a family like this? How had he got so lucky? These people were the best people he had ever known. They were everything to him.


End file.
